_Rowell._ That fellow's on guard to-night. How I hate him! Rebel bullets come fast and thick, but they never reach him. Pity! I should lose a good soldier, no doubt; but I could spare him. (_Goes to table, and lights candle._) Here's the mail for my inspection; let me see if there's any thing contraband. (_Examines letters._) "Robert Trueworth." His sister's handwriting; that shall go through. "Robert Trueworth." Gaylie's hand; detained for the present. (_Places it in his bosom._ ROBERT _is at the window outside, watching him_.) I have managed to keep many sweet morsels from his parched lips. Not a letter of hers shall ever reach him while I have the power to prevent. My guardianship has expired: she has come to her fortune, and yet she loves this man. Not a thought of me; and I love her madly. Ah! what's this? (_Takes letter._) For me, and—Gaylie's hand! (_Tears it open._) So, so; at last she thinks of me. (_Reads._) "Dear Colonel: Pardon my long silence. I have not forgotten you. A business matter which I feel it impossible to adjust makes me bold to ask your assistance. Come to Grainlow at once. I have repented of my rudeness to you, long to see you. If you can obtain a furlough, come; if you cannot, I think I could repay you for the loss of your commission should you feel inclined to resign. Believe me, I am not ungrateful for your former kindness, and earnestly entreat you to return. You shall be made happy here if 'tis in my power. Gaylie." So, so; the wind has changed. There is only one construction to be placed upon that letter. She has repented of her folly, and I can win her. (_Soldier enters_ R., _and relieves guard_.) What's that? Ah! relieving guard; I'm glad of that: I cannot bear to have that fellow near me. (ROB _is about to pass off; stands irresolute a moment, then steps inside door. The colonel is again busy with his letters._) _Crimp_ (_aside_). Golly! de guard am reliebed. _Rob_ (_removes hat_). Your pardon, colonel. Can I speak with you? (_Comes down_ L.) _Rowell_ (_turns round_). Eh? oh, Private Trueworth! Certainly, if it is important. _Rob._ You have the mail. Are there letters there for me? _Rowell._ If there are any, they will be forwarded to your company quarters. (ROB _is about to turn away_.) Stay! here is one. (_Hands letter._ ROB _takes it eagerly, looks at it, and sighs_.) _Rob._ Are there no more? _Rowell_ (_sneeringly_). No. _She_ does not seem inclined to write. _Rob._ I think _she_ has written, not once, but many times. _Rowell._ Indeed! 'Tis strange you should never have received them, for our mails come very regular. _Rob._ Not so very strange, colonel. We are in an enemy's country. Craft and deceit are all about us, even in our own ranks. I suspect an enemy has intercepted my letters. I suspect you, colonel.